


99 Red Balloons

by peaxhmei



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Amazingphil - Freeform, Angst, Dan - Freeform, Dan Howell - Freeform, Drabble, M/M, Phanfiction, Phil - Freeform, Phil Lester - Freeform, Sad Ending, Wow, danisnotonfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 03:59:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8563018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaxhmei/pseuds/peaxhmei
Summary: A third person story of two boys and a red balloon





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeeeyyyyy y'all this is my first fic on ao3!! Pls love me I'm really lame and in need of validation. I wrote this about half a year ago but it's one of my favorites. I'll be posting all my fics from tumblr to ao3, so I'll get a wider audience! Hope you enjoy :)

A little boy at the age of eight sat in the back of a grey car.  It bumped and rattled as it drove through the city.  His face and hands were smudged with dirt and grime, and his ginger hair was covered in soot.  Small brown boots covered his tired, aching feet, and an oversized cap was slipping off his head.  His grey-blue eyes stung with tears as he watched his mother and father fade into tiny black spots in the distance.  A red balloon was tied to his wrist.  He knew his family would have ninety-eight more when he returned.

Miles away, a four year old little boy sat with his legs swinging over the bridge.  He basked in the afternoon sunlight, letting the soft warm rays caress his cheek.  His brown hair glistened gold and his chocolate brown eyes drooped as he enjoyed staring at the wheat field beyond him.  The clear blue stream trickled beneath his bare feet, the occasional splash hitting his legs.  A toy soldier rested in his hand.

Time slowly slipped by, and the boys aged.

A seventeen year old teenager with dull grey-blue eyes stood by the side of the busy street, waiting to spot a familiar face.  He gently squeezed the deflated red balloon in his pocket.  

No one came.

A thirteen year old boy watched his father wave to him outside the window.  The boy did not wave back, but gripped tighter to his mother’s hand.  His tanned face was stoic and stern, struggling to hold back tears.  He was a man.  Men didn’t cry.

A twenty-one year old man stood still and straight, the stiff collar of his uniform rubbing against his neck, and his once-long ginger hair cut and dyed.  The room was filled with the smell of sweating men and the sound of yelling.  The man hated every second of it.

A sixteen year old teenager sat at the kitchen table.  His hands shook with grief as he opened the letter.  He already knew what it said.

_ 1915 - Robert Howell: Killed in Action. _

A thirty year old man laid in a hospital bed, head and arm covered in bandages.  A brown-haired nurse lifted his head to drink some water.  The man watched the nurse carefully, observing his clear, determined brown eyes.  They were beautiful.

A twenty-five year old man stretched his patient’s arm.  The patient winced in pain, pale forehead beaded with sweat, ebony hair hanging in his blue eyes.

A thirty year old man recovered.  A twenty-five year old man came with him.

A thirty year old man laid next to a twenty-five year old man, their hands clasped together.  The elder’s breathing was ragged, shaking his entire body.  He struggled to reach into his pocket.  A red balloon dangled from his fingers, mixing with his crimson blood.  

“I’ll finally get to give this back, Dan,” he smiled.

Dan coughed up blood.  His breathing was shallow. “Don’t say that Phil.  We’ll make it.”

Phil grinned as he felt his consciousness fade.  “No, that’s okay.  There’ll be ninety-eight more up there.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry


End file.
